I live in America and work in Russia. This has created high anxiety among those responsible for intelligence and counter-intelligence in both countries.
I’ve been investigated up the wazoo by the services of both countries. If either the Russians or the Americans wanted anything from me, they've had eleven years to figure out who I am and what I'm doing over there.
Worst was in the mid 90’s when nobody could figure out who the hell I was. Single person repeatedly traveling to Russia, not on the American list—hence suspect, and not on the Russian list—hence suspect. Just a humanitarian, it took several years for them to get their minds wrapped around that strange fact.
Every time there was a new list revealed---Ames, Hansen---I wasn't on it. Probably made my minders ever more insane. What was I doing at this Russian hospital. Surely I wasn't simply a humanitarian? Out of the question.
I accepted that I would be investigated [to this day, most likely] by the Russians. Why am I there. Well, on their national tv I said I was working to save the lives of children in Russia because I am a Christian, like their Orthodox Christians. Could that be a sufficient explanation? Of course not.
So they follow me, listen to my phone conversations, and demand explanations from every taxi driver. The good news is I have brought a large number of Russian taxi drivers to realize that things can be better by a concerted investment in their children's hospital.
On the American side, I have been followed and probed by a minimum of three intelligence organizations. At first I was angry, then I realized it meant we were sufficiently large and effective to draw the attention of such agencies. If I worked with one of them I would be investigating this organization. So that led to peace of mind.
One agency in Maryland sent a very junior person who was quite sweet and who was horrified at being forced to report on my very obviously humanitarian work.
One agency in Virginia sent a senior team with a trap that they thought was very clever, to ascertain if I was for real, but their charade collapsed when I confronted them with the knowledge that I knew they were investigating me, and if they wanted to know what I was doing, they could call my three most recent ministers in the Presbyterian Church. That was pretty much the end of their investigation.
One agency in a place I won't identify to be merciful to the person assigned to my case, sent an agent to an international conference to follow me and question me and my colleagues. It was truly amateur hour. I was embarrassed for my government. He questioned me in detail but in return had no knowledge about the subject of the conference. DUH PEOPLE can't we do better than that? Then I observed him following me, so I abruptly turned around and he panicked and zipped off in a different direction. I was insulted that I didn't deserve a more subtle agent. Oh well, the price of serving the poor in another country. My motives will probably always be suspect.
I hope that the intelligence agencies on both sides of the Atlantic have had sufficient opportunity over the last eleven years to investigate me and find disappointing results: I am just a humanitarian, trying to save the lives of newborns, and trying to work for peace between two countries that have long been enemies. How very unhappy they must be, the people who have been assigned to investigate me over the years. I'm sorry! Hope you find some good stuff on your other cases.
All in all, this has been a great burden on me which just piles on to my usual bipolar manic-depression and ADHD and OCD. What's one more issue? But the strange thing is, as my mental health improves, I am increasingly unwilling to accept these indignities, border problems, customs issues, intelligence investigations. Russia is improving, but my mental health is improving faster. It is a dangerous disconnect. Lives are at stake. Better to be sick and accept all these indignities as only what I deserve.
Got a better solution to save thousands of lives? I'm all ears.
*******
Showing posts with label OCD. Show all posts
Showing posts with label OCD. Show all posts
Friday, March 23, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
One catastrophe at a time
I need to do fewer things better. My sister Marilyn says the crises just have to line up, then she can handle them.
WHAT NEXT. The urgent question.
People with OCD, that wd be me, spend a lot of time thinking about SEQUENCE, what is the proper order to do things. I so get why people with more severe OCD, mine is mild, why they go into these routines of whatever, handwashing, necessity to touch or do things in a particular order, it makes them feel calm and in control at last. The poor angels!
What next can be a terrifying question. If you choose wrong, there could be terrible consequences. This is not only in families with alcoholic or rage-aholic people, yet it is understandable that where there are such people, it is painful for their family members. They are in anguish. They lash out, sometimes in ways that hurt other people. The vicious cycle continues. Hurt people hurt other people. Some of us, me included, spend an enormous amount of energy trying not to hurt other people. Turning the other cheek is giving me whiplash. Dear God I hope they get the meds right soon.
For people with OCD, they find whatever answers they can. Even if it looks abnormal from the outside.
I raise a toast to my fellow people with OCD. Maybe we're Presbyterians in spirit---"decently and in order" or Germans, who understand instinctively that there IS one optimal solution to a problem and one MUST do it that way. I'm half Presbyterian and half German. Doomed.
I see that this tendency leads to tenacity when it is important. I also observe in myself and others how it can go so wrong.
The world needs us, and our persistence and focus, but reviles those of us who have this trait in spades. Unfair.
WHAT NEXT. The urgent question.
People with OCD, that wd be me, spend a lot of time thinking about SEQUENCE, what is the proper order to do things. I so get why people with more severe OCD, mine is mild, why they go into these routines of whatever, handwashing, necessity to touch or do things in a particular order, it makes them feel calm and in control at last. The poor angels!
What next can be a terrifying question. If you choose wrong, there could be terrible consequences. This is not only in families with alcoholic or rage-aholic people, yet it is understandable that where there are such people, it is painful for their family members. They are in anguish. They lash out, sometimes in ways that hurt other people. The vicious cycle continues. Hurt people hurt other people. Some of us, me included, spend an enormous amount of energy trying not to hurt other people. Turning the other cheek is giving me whiplash. Dear God I hope they get the meds right soon.
For people with OCD, they find whatever answers they can. Even if it looks abnormal from the outside.
I raise a toast to my fellow people with OCD. Maybe we're Presbyterians in spirit---"decently and in order" or Germans, who understand instinctively that there IS one optimal solution to a problem and one MUST do it that way. I'm half Presbyterian and half German. Doomed.
I see that this tendency leads to tenacity when it is important. I also observe in myself and others how it can go so wrong.
The world needs us, and our persistence and focus, but reviles those of us who have this trait in spades. Unfair.
Monday, February 05, 2007
The puzzle puzzle: solved!
Did you ever find an activity that just made you feel calm and happy? Ok other than THAT one :)
People with ADD and possibly OCD apparently find some peace by taking up activities with repetitive hand motions.
I am surprised by how many acquaintances used to knit during the Vietnam war, then let it lapse, then have recently taken knitting up again. Myself, I don't pretend to make anything fancy, just rectangles that could charitably be called scarves.
My new activity is a logic puzzle called Paint by numbers.* My sister found one book of these that she liked so much, she would erase the puzzles and do them again. Me: ok weird, but interesting.
*Eeeeek, my first successful link on this blog...
Then I found a magazine in the St. Petersburg airport, airside, mostly in Japanese with pithy sayings and salacious ads in Russian. Got one for my sister and as an afterthot one for me.
Well! Turns out it is very calming to quietly calculate which squares to fill in with pencil strokes. So I find myself hooked. It has helped me keep my sanity while waiting in airports, on long distance flights, and while enduring inevitable pauses in Plame trial news. [Go Jane, Christy, Marcy, Swopa, Pach, TRex!!]
So this time leaving St. Petersburg, following a troubled trip in terms of customs harrassment and being followed by strangers, I looked forward to buying another pair of puzzle magazines at the airport for Marilyn and me. Alas! The space where they had been was vacant, open for reconstruction. Ach du lieber. Went towards the departure gate and found the store in its new location. Hope springs eternal [not, hopespringsaturtle, one of the all-time great pennames].
Rustled thru my briefcase and pulled out the beloved puzzle magazine, Do you have this? She looked over at the magazine rack and said, Sorry. Ruh roh. Class C emergency. It doesn't really matter in the long haul, but still....
[Little travel joke about long haul. Guess you had to be there.]
So upon return to the USSA it was a priority to research this puzzle book. I thot I would have to contact either a Japanese or a Russian distributor to get the needed material.
New theory: maybe a general US puzzle magazine would have this, good thinking. I looked carefully at Games Magazine and found the gold at the end of the rainbow: the familiar pattern on the corner of the cover. Raced to google the name of the puzzle, and found many! books and magazines with diverse names:
Hanjie
O'ekaki
Crosspix
Paint by sudoku
Paint by number
Picross
Nonograms
Griddlers
VICTORY! So I ordered a set for my sister and a set for moi. Patiently waiting. Ok those of you that know me, not so patiently waiting.
I struggle to calm my hyperactive brain. It is a great blessing except when it isn't. Thots flying too fast. Scanning the universe in search of....? Anything I find to help calm me down, excluding alcohol, is on the list.
I drink so I don't become hysterical, and angry, and say something that would hurt someone. PLEASE GOD let the researchers find new drugs that will help people like me.
Puzzle not quite solved, after all.
People with ADD and possibly OCD apparently find some peace by taking up activities with repetitive hand motions.
I am surprised by how many acquaintances used to knit during the Vietnam war, then let it lapse, then have recently taken knitting up again. Myself, I don't pretend to make anything fancy, just rectangles that could charitably be called scarves.
My new activity is a logic puzzle called Paint by numbers.* My sister found one book of these that she liked so much, she would erase the puzzles and do them again. Me: ok weird, but interesting.
*Eeeeek, my first successful link on this blog...
Then I found a magazine in the St. Petersburg airport, airside, mostly in Japanese with pithy sayings and salacious ads in Russian. Got one for my sister and as an afterthot one for me.
Well! Turns out it is very calming to quietly calculate which squares to fill in with pencil strokes. So I find myself hooked. It has helped me keep my sanity while waiting in airports, on long distance flights, and while enduring inevitable pauses in Plame trial news. [Go Jane, Christy, Marcy, Swopa, Pach, TRex!!]
So this time leaving St. Petersburg, following a troubled trip in terms of customs harrassment and being followed by strangers, I looked forward to buying another pair of puzzle magazines at the airport for Marilyn and me. Alas! The space where they had been was vacant, open for reconstruction. Ach du lieber. Went towards the departure gate and found the store in its new location. Hope springs eternal [not, hopespringsaturtle, one of the all-time great pennames].
Rustled thru my briefcase and pulled out the beloved puzzle magazine, Do you have this? She looked over at the magazine rack and said, Sorry. Ruh roh. Class C emergency. It doesn't really matter in the long haul, but still....
[Little travel joke about long haul. Guess you had to be there.]
So upon return to the USSA it was a priority to research this puzzle book. I thot I would have to contact either a Japanese or a Russian distributor to get the needed material.
New theory: maybe a general US puzzle magazine would have this, good thinking. I looked carefully at Games Magazine and found the gold at the end of the rainbow: the familiar pattern on the corner of the cover. Raced to google the name of the puzzle, and found many! books and magazines with diverse names:
Hanjie
O'ekaki
Crosspix
Paint by sudoku
Paint by number
Picross
Nonograms
Griddlers
VICTORY! So I ordered a set for my sister and a set for moi. Patiently waiting. Ok those of you that know me, not so patiently waiting.
I struggle to calm my hyperactive brain. It is a great blessing except when it isn't. Thots flying too fast. Scanning the universe in search of....? Anything I find to help calm me down, excluding alcohol, is on the list.
I drink so I don't become hysterical, and angry, and say something that would hurt someone. PLEASE GOD let the researchers find new drugs that will help people like me.
Puzzle not quite solved, after all.
Friday, February 02, 2007
My ADD interferes with my OCD
True quote from my best friend. We were discussing the joys of being both ADD and OCD when she came up with this gold. Need to think about the implications.
May I ramble on a bit? All right, you say, and in fact necessary to identify a post as being uniquely mine. Not kind of unique, sort of unique, nearly unique, [uniquer--per egSon] thank you lovely children who know this pet peeve. It is either one of a kind or not. Unique or not unique. /rant.
As to rambling, you might think this was the very sign of me posting, rather like looseheadprop's spelling errors at firedoglake. It's how we know it is her speaking.
This lovely friend came over today, as every Friday, to help in whatever way I needed for the Russian Medical Fund work. Today the agenda was to keep the president from quitting. Again. But rather seriously this time.
According to my friend, there are still children who will die without our help, and no one will take my place if I quit [what is WRONG with this world], and I probably am strong enough to keep doing this work. Gratuitous swear word inserted here. I apparently continue to have the obligation and the opportunity to save lives if only I will keep going. So be it. But I hope it's worth the cost.
We operated on a child from Tadzhikistan, who came to us from another center that will remain nameless to protect the guilty. The parents SOLD THEIR HOUSE to pay for his first surgery at the other institution, and they nearly killed him. They at least had the conscience to send him on to us. We did his repair, undoing their strange cutting and pasting, and now he has a chance at a normal life.
I watched the re-do surgery and sat with the mother, who was understandably hysterical, as her son came from surgery to the ICU. I explained to her that the surgery went well, was perfectly normal, yet her son would look strange being under anaesthesia and with tubes sticking into him. We spoke in Russian, which was her second language and mine. Yet as mothers we communicated at a higher level. She trusted me since I too had children.
That's the good news. The bad news: there are people in the city where I work who are actively trying to shut down our program, which saves the lives of 350 children a year.
Why? To bring a trickle of federal money toward their own program, so they can have a small and weak program that kills more patients than they save. They want to expand their own program at the cost of killing ours.
Can you hear my response? Their inability to see beyond themselves is evil.
Yet at some level I am sympathetic. It is always hard to see beyond oneself, or beyond one's own organization. But in this case, for them to succeed, children will die. I WILL RESIST.
My alcohol counselor is unhappy. Better I should withdraw from this struggle and work on my own sanity. What is morally right here?
I have already decided to withdraw from the issue of war and peace between the United States and Iraq/Iran/et cetera, for the benefit aof my sanity. Must I leave my work of 10+ years as well?
May I ramble on a bit? All right, you say, and in fact necessary to identify a post as being uniquely mine. Not kind of unique, sort of unique, nearly unique, [uniquer--per egSon] thank you lovely children who know this pet peeve. It is either one of a kind or not. Unique or not unique. /rant.
As to rambling, you might think this was the very sign of me posting, rather like looseheadprop's spelling errors at firedoglake. It's how we know it is her speaking.
This lovely friend came over today, as every Friday, to help in whatever way I needed for the Russian Medical Fund work. Today the agenda was to keep the president from quitting. Again. But rather seriously this time.
According to my friend, there are still children who will die without our help, and no one will take my place if I quit [what is WRONG with this world], and I probably am strong enough to keep doing this work. Gratuitous swear word inserted here. I apparently continue to have the obligation and the opportunity to save lives if only I will keep going. So be it. But I hope it's worth the cost.
We operated on a child from Tadzhikistan, who came to us from another center that will remain nameless to protect the guilty. The parents SOLD THEIR HOUSE to pay for his first surgery at the other institution, and they nearly killed him. They at least had the conscience to send him on to us. We did his repair, undoing their strange cutting and pasting, and now he has a chance at a normal life.
I watched the re-do surgery and sat with the mother, who was understandably hysterical, as her son came from surgery to the ICU. I explained to her that the surgery went well, was perfectly normal, yet her son would look strange being under anaesthesia and with tubes sticking into him. We spoke in Russian, which was her second language and mine. Yet as mothers we communicated at a higher level. She trusted me since I too had children.
That's the good news. The bad news: there are people in the city where I work who are actively trying to shut down our program, which saves the lives of 350 children a year.
Why? To bring a trickle of federal money toward their own program, so they can have a small and weak program that kills more patients than they save. They want to expand their own program at the cost of killing ours.
Can you hear my response? Their inability to see beyond themselves is evil.
Yet at some level I am sympathetic. It is always hard to see beyond oneself, or beyond one's own organization. But in this case, for them to succeed, children will die. I WILL RESIST.
My alcohol counselor is unhappy. Better I should withdraw from this struggle and work on my own sanity. What is morally right here?
I have already decided to withdraw from the issue of war and peace between the United States and Iraq/Iran/et cetera, for the benefit aof my sanity. Must I leave my work of 10+ years as well?
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